


A Tale of Two Nosebleeds

by MyOwnSuperintendent



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSuperintendent/pseuds/MyOwnSuperintendent
Summary: Even family life can sometimes lead to accidents.  Set in a universe in which all three of Scully's kids lived.





	A Tale of Two Nosebleeds

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The X-Files or anything related to it. Hope you enjoy!

_One_

Scully’s heart nearly stops when the kids come into the kitchen.  She tries not to worry about them, at least not more than your average parent.  Emily is healthy now and has been for a long time; no one’s come after them since William was a baby.  They have a form of peace, as much as they ever can.

But while she may have more reason than most to be worried, while she can’t help thinking back to her own past illness now, she thinks that even the average parent would be justified in being concerned right now.  Emily’s face is practically covered in blood.  It’s oozing from her nose, and both of the kids are shouting at once, so she can’t make any of it out, and she gives a little cry herself, dropping the plate she’s been washing into the sink.

She can tell Mulder’s worried too, looking at him, but he’s the one to get things under control.  “Woah,” he says.  “Woah, slow down, both of you.  What’s going on?”

“They took Patricia!” William says into the sudden silence, loudly and indignantly.  This doesn’t explain anything, since the much-loved, much-worn Patricia—she’s been going strong since the 1960s, despite all the times Will chewed on her head as a baby—is currently dangling from Emily’s hand.

“Patricia’s right here,” Mulder says, taking the doll from Emily—probably a good idea, since the blood is already running down onto Emily’s shirt.  “See?  Who took her?  What happened to your nose, Em?”

“They were being mean to Will!” Emily says, and her voice would sound very fierce if it weren’t so thick.  “So I punched them.”

“Who?” Mulder asks again.  He looks confused, and Scully can’t blame him.

“Jim and Mike,” Emily says, finally.  “The ones who live on the fourth floor.  They were teasing him and they took Patricia and I punched them.  Both,” she adds.  She sounds fairly proud of it.  “And then Mike punched me.  But I got Patricia back.”

“I can see you did,” Scully says.  Right now, she feels faintly relieved, although she knows they should get more of the story, and maybe talk to the other kids’ parents, and maybe talk to Emily about violence.  “Come here, Em.  Let me get you cleaned up.  Tip your head and pinch your nose.”

Emily follows her obediently, but once she has her head bent over the sink and Scully’s dabbing at her chin with a wet paper towel, she starts talking again.  “They were being so mean,” she says, her voice sounding funny through her pinched nose.  “They said Will shouldn’t even have Patricia.  Because she’s a doll and he’s a boy.”  She shakes her head vigorously; Scully puts out a hand to hold her still.  “That’s so stupid.”

“It is stupid,” Mulder agrees. 

“You did the right thing to help Will,” Scully says.  “But maybe you shouldn’t have punched—”

“But they’re bigger than me, Mom!” Emily protests.  “And a lot bigger than Will.”  Scully isn’t sure how old the boys in the apartment who live upstairs are—around Emily’s age, she thinks.  She’s seen them, briefly, in the courtyard area of their building, where a lot of the kids who live there play.  As of today, she’s not impressed with them.  “I did talk to them first,” she says.  “But they wouldn’t listen.  And you always say I should look out for Will.  You always say that.”  She raises her head, gingerly.  “Besides, they punched me too.”

“You punched them first,” Scully points out.

“I told you why,” Emily says.  She looks indignant, as if she expected nothing but sympathy.  Maybe she’s being too harsh, Scully thinks, because she really doesn’t blame Emily; maybe she’s overcompensating.  Mulder certainly doesn’t look like he’s about to scold their daughter.  William is gazing at his sister adoringly, clinging onto Patricia.

“I know,” Scully says, gently.  “You were right to look out for your brother.  Just make sure you think, okay?  Don’t jump to violence.”

“What your mom is saying,” says Mulder, “is that you shouldn’t punch anyone who doesn’t deserve to be punched.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Scully says, but Emily starts laughing, and William too, and she gives up.  “Does your nose hurt?” she asks Emily.

“A little,” Emily says. 

“I’ll get you an ice pack,” Scully says.  “Just go change your shirt first, okay?”

Emily heads to her room to change, and when she reappears, Scully hands her the ice pack.  She squeezes her shoulders quickly as she does, smiling, and Emily looks up and smiles back.

 

_Two_

It was Emily’s idea, for the two of them to be in charge for the weekend.  “It’s Mom and Dad’s anniversary,” she told him.  “Don’t you want to do something nice for them?”

“I’m just not sure how nice it will be,” Will said, “when they come back at the end of the weekend and find that two of their kids broke the third one.”

“We’re not going to break Susanna,” Emily said.  “She’s not really a baby, anymore.”

“She’s not exactly self-sufficient.”

“Well, obviously not,” Emily said.  “If she were, we wouldn’t need to watch her.  Mom and Dad haven’t had this kind of time to themselves in a long time.  Because they’re always thinking about the three of us.  It wouldn’t kill us to think about them.”

She was right, he knew, and so he let her talk him into it.  She talked their parents into it too, when they told her that her idea was nice but not necessary—Emily has that kind of steamroller power when she wants to.  They left today, for a weekend by the shore; Susanna gave them her version of a goodbye kiss, which Will knows from experience is mostly spit.  And so far, believe it or not, the afternoon hasn’t gone disastrously.  He and Emily made dinner together and talked: it was nice to spend that kind of time together, now that they’re both out of the house.  They managed to feed Susanna without making too much of a mess.  And now they’re sitting in the living room, chatting while Susanna lies on the rug, playing with a large stuffed bunny. 

“What do you have?” Emily asks her, cooing.  “Is that your bunny?”

“Bunny!” Susanna says.  She’s not yet at the stage for having real conversations.

“Can I see?” Emily asks.  Susanna stares at them for a minute, clearly considering the suggestion.  Then she gets up, toddles towards them, trips over one of the bunny’s ears, and falls, slowly and inevitably, onto her face on the coffee table. 

She immediately starts to wail, but that’s not the worst of it.  When she looks up, her nose is bleeding.  Pretty dramatically.

“Shit!” Will exclaims, starting towards her.  “Sorry.  You didn’t hear that, Susanna.”  He picks her up.  “It’s going to be okay.”  But she’s crying and crying, and he isn’t sure what to do.

Emily joins them, looking equally frantic.  “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking at Susanna’s face.  “It’s okay, Susanna.  Shh.”  Susanna does not shush in the slightest, not that Will can blame her. 

“We should do something,” he says.  “There’s the first aid kit?  I think Mom keeps it in the bathroom.”

Emily nods quickly.  “Good thinking.  I’ll go get it.”  And she darts off down the hall, leaving Will to hold Susanna and try to get her to stop crying.

“Yeah, I know,” he tells her.  “It hurts.  We’ll fix you up, Em and I.”  He feels so guilty, looking at her.  “I told you we were going to break her,” he says to Emily when she comes back, first aid kit in hand.

“Don’t even say that!” Emily says.  “Here.  You hold her and I’ll clean her up.”  They sit back down on the couch, and he tries to hold Susanna so that she won’t bleed all over the cushions, while Emily dabs at her face with a wipe.  She’s trying to soothe Susanna while she does, singing a little, but she’s pretty off-key, and her voice cuts out altogether whenever she’s concentrating.  He takes over the song, and she gives him a grateful look.  Susanna’s sobs start to lessen.  “There, now you’re all clean,” Emily says.  She pinches Susanna’s nose gently, but it’s not bleeding much, not now.  “I don’t think it’s broken.  Will, it doesn’t look broken, right?”

“I don’t know,” he says, looking.  “I don’t think so.  You want me to look it up?”

“Please,” Emily says.  She takes Susanna onto her lap while he goes through his phone, googling variants on _toddler with bloody nose_ until he finds what he’s looking for. 

“It says you should keep pinching it,” he says.  “At least five minutes.  Here’s some of the symptoms for a broken nose.”  He holds out the phone so she can look. 

“She seems okay now,” she says eventually; Susanna’s sitting up on her lap and not crying anymore, although she doesn’t look that happy either.  “Maybe we should take her to the doctor in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Will says, “we could do that.”  Emily looks even unhappier than Susanna does, though.  “Hey,” he says, “she’s fine.  I’m sorry I said we were going to break her.  You’re okay now, right, Susanna?  You want your bunny?”  He picks it up from the floor and hands it to her, even though he secretly blames it for the whole mess. 

She grabs it and chews on its ears.  “Bunny!”

“Yeah, that’s right, bunny,” Will says.  “See, Em?  She’s okay.”

“I guess,” Emily says.  “I just…I feel bad.  We’re supposed to be taking care of her.  Not letting her get hurt.”

“I know,” Will says.  “But it wasn’t your fault.”  He looks down at Susanna, who’s still chewing on the bunny, very enthusiastically.  “You don’t blame Emily, do you?”

“Emily!” Susanna says.  She gives her sister one of her sudden hugs, which seems to settle that question, and Emily kisses the top of her head.

“Well, there you go,” Will says.  He’s starting to feel a lot better, himself.  “Anyway, it’s a badge of honor, Susanna.  Emily once got a bloody nose.  Back when we lived in our old apartment.  She was defending me and she punched some kids.”  He hasn’t thought about it in a while, but the scene comes back to him now.  “So you’re in good company.”

“I didn’t know you remembered that,” Emily says.  “You were only three.”

“Of course I remember,” Will says.  “Don’t feel bad about this, Em.  You’re a good older sister.  Not to get all mushy about it or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” she says, rolling her eyes.  But she’s smiling again.

They put Susanna in her crib to sleep.  Then they go back downstairs and move the coffee table into their dad’s office and shut the door behind it, firmly.  Better safe than sorry.


End file.
